The Trouble With Legends
by slightlytookish
Summary: Arthur embarks on a noble quest to find Merlin, who fled from Camelot years before. Includes references to Monty Python and the Holy Grail.


**Note: **Mild spoilers for series one of Merlin. This story was inspired by Monty Python and the Holy Grail – in particular, the scenes involving Tim the Enchanter and the Killer Rabbit. Therefore, a few lines/references have been lovingly borrowed from Monty Python :)

* * *

The trouble with legends is that they rarely get the facts right.

For example, Arthur was not actually commanded by God to seek and find the Holy Grail. Rather, he was mercilessly nagged by Morgana and Gwen to find Merlin and bring him back to Camelot.

"A king doesn't neglect his duties at court to hunt down a runaway servant," Arthur said when they broached the topic yet again. "Merlin left on his own. _I_ didn't run him out of the kingdom."

"You didn't stop him, either," Morgana replied. Arthur frowned and looked down from the battlements, watching the knights at their drills for a long moment and definitely not thinking about that dark, terrible day when Uther discovered Merlin's magic and ordered his execution, and Merlin ran from Camelot like a thief in the night.

Well, not exactly. The explosion in the dungeon was _quite_ impressive at the time.

"It's been five years," Arthur said at last. "And I've been king for two of them. Even Merlin must have heard by now. He could have come back if he wanted to."

Morgana and Gwen exchanged a glance. "Maybe he doesn't know," Gwen said. "Perhaps Merlin hasn't heard the news yet. He could be – I don't know – living in a cave somewhere."

Arthur snorted. "That would be just like Merlin. Living under a rock as usual."

"Or," Morgana said, "he might not know what his reception would be if he returned to Camelot."

Arthur looked at her sharply. "You of all people should know that I wouldn't have him executed."

"Of course I know that," Morgana said, rolling her eyes only a little. "But does Merlin?"

Arthur fell silent once more.

"If you just talked to Merlin…" Gwen said. "I know you could make him understand, convince him to return – to come home. You always meant the world to him."

"We all miss him," Morgana said, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. "But I know you miss Merlin most of all. Admit it, Arthur. You're miserable without him."

"Maybe Merlin is waiting for you to set things right," Gwen said quietly.

Arthur remained silent, but three days later Morgana and Gwen stood on the battlements alone, watching as Arthur led a group of knights out of the city.

"Did he really say he was looking for the Holy Grail?" Gwen asked, sounding sceptical.

Morgana smirked. "Apparently that's what they're calling it these days."

* * *

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The journey was arduous and, after three months, still fruitless. But Arthur drove his knights on, leading the way and always insisting that if they travelled just a little further they would soon find what they sought.

Some days, Arthur almost believed it.

There were times when he keenly felt Merlin's presence, and was certain that something – or someone – guided him in the right direction. There were also days when he thought it was a lost cause and nearly turned back. But Arthur never gave up easily and since the idea of returning home without Merlin was unthinkable, he pressed on.

The terrain changed from the forests and fertile lands that surrounded Camelot to tall, rocky cliffs. One day there was a loud blast and a shower of rocks rained down onto the path just in front of Arthur's horse. The knights drew their swords, glancing around suspiciously, but Arthur's attention was focused on the figure standing on the cliff high above them.

It was an old man, bearded and dressed in dark robes. He leaned heavily on a staff, and his bright eyes were fixed on the king.

"Arthur Pendragon," he said, in a tone of voice that suggested amusement rather than the proper respect one ought to show a king.

Lancelot drew his horse closer, placing himself protectively between the old man and the king, but Arthur held up a hand to reassure him.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

The old man hesitated. "There are some who call me… Tim."

"Tim?" Arthur said dubiously.

"I know what you seek," Tim said. "You're looking for the Holy Grail."

"Sorcerer," Galahad murmured from behind Arthur. "He must be a sorcerer."

Arthur ignored him. "Do you know where this relic lies?"

"Yes," Tim replied, "but it is guarded by a cruel and fearsome beast. I will lead the way, if you dare to face this creature."

"We're not afraid," Arthur said. "Lead on, _Tim_."

The old man led them beyond the cliffs to a cave. A disturbing number of bones were strewn about, and at the entrance to the cave sat a rabbit.

"There it is," whispered Tim as they crept closer. "Look, it's watching us. Don't make any sudden movements."

"You're not talking about the rabbit, are you?" Galahad asked in disbelief. Around them the knights snickered.

"That's no ordinary rabbit," Tim protested.

The knights' laughter grew louder.

Arthur was quickly losing his patience. "That's enough," he said irritably, signalling for the knights to approach the rabbit. As they surrounded it, still laughing, Arthur grabbed the old man's arm and pulled him close.

"I know who you are," he hissed. "I'd know you anywhere, _Merlin_."

Merlin's eyes grew wide and he took a step away, as if he meant to run. _Not this time_, Arthur thought to himself, tightening his grip on Merlin's arm.

And then, the rabbit exploded.

"Was that really necessary?" Arthur asked a moment later.

"They're not quite dead," Merlin said helpfully, referring to the bodies of the knights lying haphazardly around the mouth of the cave. "They're just… resting. It's only a spell. They'll be awake in no time, I promise."

Arthur nudged Lancelot with his toe. The knight didn't stir.

"Give or take a few hours," Merlin amended.

"Attacking your king with an exploding rodent," Arthur mused thoughtfully as he attempted to wipe the rabbit blood from the front of his tunic. "Is this revenge for the time I made you eat that rat stew?"

Merlin smiled fondly at the memory. "Nah, I forgave you for that. Besides, the stew wasn't that bad." He glanced pointedly at Arthur's hand, which still firmly clasped Merlin's arm just above his elbow.

Arthur looked at his hand too, pleased to see it resting against the rough cloth of Merlin's robes, and made no attempt to move it. He was afraid that if he did, Merlin would disappear again.

"The Holy Grail?" Merlin said at last, looking amused. "You couldn't think of something a little more plausible? Something you might actually find?"

"_Obviously_ I couldn't have my quest begin and end in a day," Arthur said. "I needed enough time to look for you. And somehow the Holy Grail sounded a lot more convincing as the object of a quest than the worst manservant in the history of the world."

Merlin grinned. "How did you find me?"

"I wondered if someone was guiding me," Arthur admitted. "You didn't...?"

"I thought about it sometimes," Merlin said. "But I never tried it, just in case you didn't want to find me."

They exchanged a quiet smile. Then Arthur rolled his eyes.

"It's a wonder I found you at all, with that mangy beard of yours," he said. "And are you actually wearing a _hat_, Merlin? With _horns_? Are you _trying_ to look like ram?"

"Hey, at least my appearance is just an enchantment," Merlin replied, as impertinent as ever. The air around him shimmered and Arthur blinked at the sudden brightness. When he opened his eyes again, Merlin was standing before him looking much like he did before he left Camelot – young once more, his hair a little longer than Arthur remembered but still just as dark, his face clean-shaven, and not a horned hat in sight.

"But there's no excuse for that awful beard of yours," Merlin added, prodding Arthur's chin with one curious finger. "At least, I think it's a beard. It's not some sort of horrible growth, is it?"

"Of course it's not a growth," Arthur said, ducking away from Merlin's hand and feigning annoyance. "It makes me look kingly."

"More like a prat, you mean," Merlin said, grinning. "I leave Camelot for a few years and you grow _that_. It's tragic."

"I don't suppose you're coming back?" Arthur said, trying to sound unconcerned.

Merlin frowned as if he was struggling to make a decision. "I think I must," he said gravely. "If only to save you from yourself. And that… thing growing on your face."

Arthur tried not to look too pleased. "We'll start back as soon as the others wake up," he said, slinging his arm comfortably around Merlin's shoulder. "After all, there's no need for you to pack. There are _plenty_ of interesting hats for you to wear at home…"


End file.
